


Where I'm From

by imaginaryinspiration



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abandonment, Child Neglect, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, the tags make it sound really dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 05:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15722856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginaryinspiration/pseuds/imaginaryinspiration
Summary: Frisk is given a class assignment to write a poem about themselves for Back to School Night. Easy peasy, right? Well, it's what's in the poem that's worrying...





	Where I'm From

**Author's Note:**

> So I was given an assignment recently in class that was a Where I'm From poem and the point of it is basically to share a little about yourself and your life without really saying it, just implying things and giving people some sort of emotion to feel. I thought it was a pretty cool thing and I thought about what would happen if Frisk was given the assignment...

“Alright class, since we’re just starting school, I thought we might do a get to know each other activity! And, since back to school night is coming up, I thought it might be good for you to present it to everyone on that night! This assignment is called a “Where I’m From” poem. There was an author who wrote it and it implied a lot about her without her telling everyone who she was, and that’s what you’re going to do. I have a template for you. When you are filling it out, don’t worry about it sounding good because it won’t make much sense until you are finished. Just make sure everything you write represents you!”

 

Their teacher handed out templates to each middle school student in her English class. There was a collective groan from most of the students, but Frisk was happy; they enjoyed writing poems. They were fun and even though theirs didn’t rhyme they still liked the sound of them. Frisk looked down at their template.

 

“I Am From Poem

Use this template to draft your poem, and then write a final draft to share on blank paper.

 

I am from ______________________________ (specific ordinary item)

From ________________________ and __________________________ (product name) (product name)

I am from the ______________________________________________ (home description) ___________________ , _________________ , ________________________________ (adjective) (adjective) (sensory detail)

I am from _________________________________________ , (plant, flower, natural item) ________________________________________________________________________ (description of above item)

I'm from ____________________________ and ______________________________ (family tradition) (family trait)

From ______________________________ and _________________________ (name of family member) (another family name)

I'm from the ____________________________ and ______________________ (description of family tendency) (another one)

From _________________________________ and ________________________ (something you were told as a child) (another)

I'm from ___________________________ , __________________________________ (representation of religion or lack of), (further description)

I'm from _______________________________________________ (place of birth and family ancestry) ______________________________________ ,

________________________________ (a food item that represents your family) (another one) From the ______________________________________________________________ (specific family story about a specific person and detail)

The _________________________________________________________ (another detail of another family member) _________________________________________________________________ (location of family pictures, mementos, archives) __________________________________________________________________ (line explaining the importance of family items)”

 

It looked complicated but Frisk was ready to take on the challenge. They didn’t have a lot of other homework since it was the first week of school so they had lots of time to finish this and be ready to present it by Back to School Night, which was that Friday.

 

After class, Frisk started to walk home from school, the entire 40 minutes. Their legs couldn’t move very fast, but they still got home faster than usual. When they let themselves inside they realized their mother was not going to be home tonight as she needed to work a double shift. That was okay, they knew how to cook and were old enough to use the stove without burning themselves like they used to.

 

They got right to the poem and looked at it again. So, everything they put in there needed to represent them… shouldn’t be too hard. Their journey through the Underground had been a journey of self-discovery as well as a journey of freeing the monsters. After they had left the Underground, they decided to go back to their home, and they still weren’t sure why they chose to. Toriel had offered her home so readily but they were sure that the monsters would be greatly burdened with all of the diplomacies they would have to be doing and they didn’t want to be an extra weight added to the heavy load on Toriel’s back.

 

They found their mind wandering to their memories of the Underground and their life before as they wrote their poem. They thought of Toriel’s home in the Ruins and of butterscotch-cinnamon pie, of spaghetti and Papyrus’ unconditional support and friendship. They remembered feeling like garbage with a ghost and cooking with a fish. They remembered the magical feeling of Waterfall and the sweltering heat of Hotland. Their mind also took a journey further down memory lane into their childhood, of their head being stroked by kind hands, and their cheeks stinging from the slap of those same hands. They remembered going hungry and also warm soup. They remembered happiness and comfort, but they also remembered loneliness and isolation.

 

Frisk remembered looking down at their arms and legs purpled with bruises and thinking “this is normal”. They also remembered realizing when it wasn’t and wearing long sleeves to hide those blue and black marks and lying to their teachers. They remembered their mom picking them up from school and hugging them very tightly, but they also remembered being left at school until the stars shined in the sky and it was dark and not knowing the way back home so they slept on the sidewalk. After that, they learned the way back home so they could walk back next time their mother forgot about them.

 

Frisk’s memories of home were happy, but they also ached. Ached with sadness and loneliness, and wishing they could go back to when they were younger and their mom would wake them up with pancakes and coffee that they didn’t like but still drank anyway. They knew their mother was not perfect, but she still loved them, and they knew that she was very young and not ready for the responsibility when she had them. They knew that she had to drop out of high school to raise them, and she loved them, but she was still just a kid, and they forgave her. It was alright in the end, Frisk knew how to fend for themself. They had to grow up pretty quickly.

 

Frisk picked up their pencil and started to write. It was easy for them to connect their memories into the poem and to tell their story without really telling it. When they looked at the finished product, they were ready to turn it in and present it.

 

 

It was Back to School Night. Frisk’s mother couldn’t make it (she’d been a lot more distant ever since they came back from the mountain. They didn’t think she liked monsters all that much.) but Frisk’s monster friends were there to listen and that meant a lot to them. The 6th grader in front of them finished their poem and then walked off stage while everybody clapped and Frisk stepped out in front of the parents. They cleared their throat.

 

 

“I am from used band-aids, from Glamburgers and Grillby’s.

I am from the broken home at the end of the road, hungry, aching, fuzzy carpets.

I am from wilting roses and cheerful daisies.

I'm from soft lullabies and small eyes.

From Mother and Grandmother.

I'm from drinking too much and smelling bitter, and cannot control angry feelings inside.

From nobody wants you and you’re a mistake.

I'm from the God of Hyperdeath, rainbows and lost souls.

I'm from nowhere, I don’t belong,

from warm butterscotch-cinnamon pie and soothing golden flower tea.

From the girl who slept around and had children too young, from falling down mountains and cheating death, and the woman to whom crime was a hobby.

I am from blank walls, dirty floors, and dust,

from crayon drawings and finger paint hearts in her pockets.

I am from broken happiness, from hopeful sadness,

from golden flower pictures.

I am from my memories,

but my life does not make me.

I make my life.”

 

Toriel was misty-eyed and it seemed Sans had no eyes at all. Undyne and Alphys looked worried, and Asgore was concerned and sympathetic. Papyrus seemed to not understand, but everyone clapped. Frisk hid their shaking hands behind their back and walked out of everyone’s gazes.

 

After all the students have finished presenting their poems, Frisk’s friends approached them. “Frisk, your poem was amazing, but—” “We’re worried—” “Are you okay?” “Frisk, did someone tell you that nobody wanted you? Do you feel that you don’t belong?”

 

“hey, buddy? i think we need to have a little talk.” Sans wanted them to come with him and so they did. Frisk trusted him. He took a shortcut into one of the classrooms where nobody was in and sat down in a desk and so they did too. “kid, i’m getting some real worrying vibes from you right now. was all that really true? from what i’m hearing, sounds like your mother drank too much and told you some real nasty things. what i want to know is,” he closed his eyes and when he opened them they were empty and black,“w h a te l s ed i ds h ed o?”

 

They told him. They told him how their mother was kind and loving, she just wasn’t ready for the responsibility of a child when she was a child herself and they told him how her father was an alcoholic so then she became an alcoholic and sometimes she drank too much which made her mad and which made her violent and then Frisk came to school the next day with jackets and long sleeves to hide the bruises she had made. They told him how their mom sang them lullabies and how she smoothed their hair but how she also sometimes didn’t feel like being around them and then she wouldn’t talk to them when they wanted to. Frisk told him about sleeping under the stars on the street outside the school but also about how she tucked them in at night.

 

He listened very quietly, not interrupting Frisk as they let it flow all out. They realized how much of a burden was lifted off of their shoulders once they told him the story. They'd never told anyone before, they realized. Frisk then realized how tense the air was and how quiet Sans still was and he seemed very angry. Once he realized they were staring at him he composed himself, and, gritting his teeth, he asked, “why did you go back, then? why didn’t you stay with tori?”

 

“I didn’t want to bother you guys. Also, I love my mother. I wouldn’t want to leave her all alone. She loves me too, even if she has been more distant lately…”

 

“ _distant_?”

 

“No! Not like mad or anything. Just like, she acts like I’m not there a lot but that’s okay because I’m used to being alone.”

 

Sans’ smile looked very strained, but he composed himself and said “frisk? can i ask you a question? how about from now on, you stay with tori? i’ll, uh,  _work out the details_ if you agree. howsaboutit? if you really want to, you can still see your mom, just, uh, less often.”

 

Frisk took a second to think about it. On one hand, Sans was offering and he really wanted them to accept his offer. They knew that they would never be lonely living with the monsters and Toriel would probably bake them pie and be loving all the time, but on the other hand, they loved their mother and did not want her to be lonely. They don’t know if she would miss them, with how she’s been acting, but Frisk would miss her. But… they might be happier with the monsters. They realize that they’re not all that happy at home, but they’ve never been able to think of living anywhere else. That’s just  _home_ and it always has been. Even if it is run down and dirty, that’s all they’ve ever known. They realize that maybe loneliness is all they’ve ever really known as well.

 

“…Sans?”

 

“yeah, kid?”

 

“I want to live with you guys. I really do.”

 

Sans responds with a hug, and Frisk hugs him back tightly. He tells them how happy he is that they said yes. They tell him they’re happy too. And when they think about it, its the first time they’ve been happy, really happy, and hopeful for the future in a long time.


End file.
